Icarus
by tysunkete
Summary: Oneshot. Two months after Furuya turns twenty-five, Miyuki says, "Let's break up." Furumiyu.


_Title:_ Icarus  
 _Fandom:_ Daiya no Ace  
 _Character/Pairings:_ Miyuki/Furuya  
 _Summary:_ Oneshot. Two months after Furuya turns twenty-five, Miyuki says, "Let's break up." Furumiyu.  
 _Notes:_ I began writing this at 4:30 a.m. what is my life now honestly?

* * *

Two months after Furuya turns twenty-five, Miyuki says, "Let's break up."

Thinking about it now, Miyuki realises this is the first time he's ever said this over the past many years they've been dating since high school. It's almost a wonder how he hasn't managed to screw this up until now; it's perhaps a new personal record he should note down. At twenty-six—at least, he's twenty-six this year—he's been a professional baseball player for a number of years, a catcher and captain in one of the minor leagues. Furuya's a zookeeper after earning his degree in zoology a couple of years back. They've been living in a small apartment on the outskirts of Tokyo with a ceiling that leaks when it rains too heavily ever since Miyuki paid it off with loans to his name.

Furuya, who sits in bed next to him, drops his attention from his phone and flickers his gaze over. "…Why?"

Miyuki rests his weight against the pillow propped up at the head of their double bed. "I've been thinking," he begins, fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of his night shirt. "This isn't working out."

At the silence, he continues.

"I quit the team."

It's not that a sudden decision—he's actually thought about it for a long time. It's not that he doesn't want to play baseball anymore, but over the past years it doesn't feel like he's _meant_ to play baseball professionally. In seven years, he's been the catcher and the captain, but he's just in one of the lowest ranked teams in Japan. Reality is tougher than the fight to bring Seido to Koshien and win. No one in their team went pro except him and Chris, but Chris has always been extraordinary, a light he's been chasing since middle school. Sometimes he even thinks he gets close. He remembers what it was like when he had signed his first contract—he's going _pro_ , he's going stand on the field and take down every other team in his path because he's _Miyuki Kazuya_ , the genius catcher, the 'saviour of Seido'—but with seven years on, he hasn't.

Truth is, he hasn't taken down many teams in his path, not even with great teammates and countless hours of practice and devising strategies. There's always just someone better than him, some team better than theirs. He was still in the same spot as he was in on the first day of his contract— a far cry from landing a spot anywhere near the national team—so, what _has_ he been doing all this time?

Wasn't he meant for something more?

"Then, what are you going to do?" Furuya asks.

Miyuki looks at the dripping ceiling near the window while the rain pelts hard outside and shrugs. Perhaps the question is _what_ can _he do?_ He's been breathing baseball for so long in his life that he doesn't know anything else.

"I'll figure it out," he says.

The light overhead flickers when thunder rumbles outside, the steady drip of the leak in the ceiling getting louder. He's been thinking about selling this shitty apartment for years off and on. Now seems like a good time.

Furuya speaks. "So why do you want to break up with me?"

"What have you and I been doing all these years, Satoru?" he says in return.

Because, really, _what_ have they been doing all these years? Miyuki stares harder at the drops of water forming from the crack in the plaster, plopping down into the thick bundle of towels they've put on the floor. It's been nine years between them and they're still stuck cohabitating in a tiny broken apartment with late nights and early mornings because of both of their jobs. Some days Miyuki comes home to see Furuya already sleeping and drags himself out of bed while Furuya is still sleeping, some days he crashes before Furuya returns home and wakes when Furuya has already left. They've been at a standstill of just _living_ together for years. He's sure he had a plan for them when he asked Furuya to move in with him all those years ago.

But now without a job and no direction in life, he isn't sure of a lot of things anymore.

Furuya's fingers brushes against his under the covers, curling them together. Miyuki glances over at the touch, finally meeting Furuya's eyes for the first time in this entire conversation. The younger's gaze is intense like a bullet through his heart. It makes Miyuki feel unnervingly exposed and he breaks off their eye contact, choosing instead to busy himself with tucking his cold feet under the blanket.

Furuya takes his hand fully and shuffles closer, so much that Miyuki _has_ to look at him.

The pale face, dark hair, beautiful eyes.

"Happy," Furuya says softly, voice meaningful. "I've been happy with you."

Miyuki swallows the clog in his throat and lets Furuya cup him by the jaw to kiss him cautiously, pressing soft between them. He closes his eyes when Furuya licks against his lips and meets their tongues, breathing both light and heavy with wet noises when they break for short breaths of air, unrelenting and intense until he's breathless and vaguely aware that he's been pushed down flat on the bed.

Furuya's eyes are bright and dark above his.

"I won't break up with you," the younger murmurs before pressing mouth opened kisses down his neck.

Miyuki groans at the teeth scraping against his skin, the hard suckles and wet warmth leaving a trial of red splotches. His hands find way into the hair at Furuya's scalp, gripping the strands with every stubborn and unyielding bite and kiss to his throat. Normally he refuses to let Furuya leave any marks on his neck, but today he swipes his glasses off with one hand and leaves them somewhere at the edge of the bed, his fingers on his other hand slipping down to Furuya's nape and digging into it for purchase.

He's already quit the team, it doesn't matter if he has questionable coloured spots on his neck anymore.

Furuya nips a path right up his chin and melds their mouths together again, clambering over him to straddle him by the hips. He's so easily hard, cock straining against his boxers and pressing right against the hot body shoving down at him, with Furuya's eyes as sharp as steel watching him moan at the action. This isn't fair, he wants to say, but Furuya drinks his complaints with a tongue dance, palms roaming up his shirt to caress the skin underneath. Miyuki shivers at the gentle touches, the heat in his groin flaring hotter in impatience— _this isn't fair._

"Sato— _nghh_ —" he manages when Furuya releases his mouth, only to replace that with a bite on his navel.

The younger buries his head against his abdomen and ignore the squirms and groans Miyuki breathes out with his head pressed against the pillow. Fingers dig into the waistband of his boxers which slide down easy as Furuya continues to press kisses along his hip and further down to any skin exposed. He tries to sit up when Furuya presses his bare thighs down, but when Furuya takes him into his mouth, his back arches and he falls back down to the bed, head spinning.

He can only marvel at how very warm and soft Furuya's tongue is against the head of his cock.

" _Fuck_ , _Satoru_ —" he moans breathlessly, hand atop of Furuya's head as Furuya takes him deeper.

Behind closed eyes, all he sees is a blinding white.

 _I've been happy with you._

It's a different sort of ecstasy thrumming through his veins, but deep in the recesses of his mind he knows what Furuya had meant. It's hard to explain, but perhaps it's like when he was seventeen and listening to Furuya's love confession in his dormitory room over the stench of nail polish, or at the mound in Koshien with their hard won victory and the congratulatory yells of the audience a blur in his ears as Furuya kissed him plain for all to see.

It's like the first Christmas he spent at Furuya's household and the warm smile Furuya's mother wore when she called him her son, or the first time they tried to have sex but both of them came too early before the actual act. Or maybe when he signed the deed to this apartment and held the keys for a month before he gave them, never more afraid in his life for anything, to Furuya. Or the first time he heard Furuya laugh when he was halfway into a strip dance for Furuya's birthday and tripped into the other's lap, or the times when they came home tipsy and never made it to their bedroom and instead made out on the floor, or when his father passed away and Furuya made love to him every day for three weeks to stitch back all the feelings he lost so much over the years that he couldn't cry.

Or every one of his matches that Furuya had turned up to without fail, win or lose, to kiss him breathless with that star struck glaze, or the nights that they've played catch in the empty field behind their apartment till sunrise, the morning jogs around the neighbourhood with him taunting with all the sex favours he was owed with every minute that Furuya lagged behind, or those days when Furuya ran faster than he did and demanded a whole list in return. The mornings when he wakes up to Furuya stealing kisses while he's asleep, or the quiet way that Furuya stares at him with the whisper of ' _I love you_ ' like a prayer to his lips—

When Miyuki comes, Furuya takes all of him down his throat, tongue darting out to lick off the white liquid at the edges of his lips.

Miyuki stares up at the ceiling breathing heavily, boneless. He doesn't protest when Furuya crawls up to kiss him, the bitter taste of his own come on his tongue, instead, he thumbs at the edge of Furuya's hips, following the sharp cut of the bones down the front of the other's boxers. Miyuki isn't surprised to find that it's already wet inside, fingers skimming over the length of Furuya's cock as he tugs it out, huffing out a half laugh when Furuya presses his head into Miyuki's shoulder and breaks a soft moan.

He's close to bringing Furuya to the edge when Furuya catches his hands still. They don't trade words but he knows exactly what the younger is asking when he feels the press of the plastic bottle of lube against the side of his waist when Furuya drags it out from under one of their pillows. He spreads his thighs out wider as Furuya warms the lube in hands.

The first finger that eases him up is uncomfortable but familiar, but the second brushes against a good spot and he lets his head loll on the pillow as he tries to take in deeper breaths. By the third he's impatient—he tries to rock his hips but Furuya holds him down, fingers leaving the clenching hole and taking his own sweet time to pull his own boxers off completely and slicking up his erection.

Miyuki is close to telling Furuya to hurry it up when he feels the blunt head pressing against him and breaching the first ring of muscle—Miyuki sucks in a deep breath, back arching slightly. He breathes out very slowly as Furuya pushes in, groaning quietly near his ear, with his sticky palms caressing Miyuki's arms from the elbow to the tip of the wrists and clasping their hands together, fingers interlocking and curling in reflex.

Miyuki squeezes his eyes shut when Furuya thrusts fully into him.

He also remembers the cold sinking realisation on a totally mundane evening with Furuya watching an animal documentary leaning on his shoulder while he was half-way falling dead asleep when he looked over the pale face, dark hair and bright eyes with the startling thought of _'I love him'_ —

Furuya pulls out a little and pushes back into him again, the movement rocking up to the pleasurable nerves in his spine. Miyuki can't help the loud moan passing over his lips, half muffled when Furuya meets their mouths messily and groans into it with a harder thrust.

"You are more than enough for me," Furuya mumbles against his wet lips, and Miyuki's fingers dig hard into back of Furuya's hands.

Miyuki feels every breath and shudder that ripples through Furuya's body as they both chase their climax—Furuya thrusts hard and fast enough to lift Miyuki's hips off the bed, the deeper angle working to their advantage. Furuya hits it first with stuttered gasps, larger trembling frame covering Miyuki's when his hips still. For the next few seconds Miyuki takes in the heavy breaths near his ear and the cock that's still in him while his own is still hard and pressed up between their sweat slicked bodies.

Gently he slips his hands out of Furuya's grasp and runs a teasing trail starting from Furuya's nape down the other's bare back. Furuya jerks back slightly in reflex, skin sensitive, and that's all Miyuki needs for him to roll them over, with him pressing Furuya down by the chest and straddling the other while still connected between them. Furuya looks up at him in a mixture of exhaustion and surprise, a pink flush colouring the other's neck when Miyuki throws his head back, spreads his legs, lifts his hips and shoves them back down.

In this position Furuya reaches deeper inside of him than ever, and Miyuki spies in his hazy desperate chase to come that Furuya gropes for his hands while the other's face is pressed sideways into the pillow. Miyuki interlocks their fingers when he leans forward to hear the soft murmurs that spills from Furuya's lips.

"I—I can't—"

But Miyuki deliberately clenches up and thrusts himself harder down. God, he wants to come so badly but he can wait a little bit more for Furuya who tosses a little more frantically underneath him, cock moving slick and easy in and out of him with the mess of lube and come.

"I'm enough for you, aren't I?" he breathes, dark against Furuya's ear, and the other moans through bitten lips, head jerking an obedient nod.

Miyuki can't tell who comes first this time, but he's biting hard on the juncture of Furuya's neck when he does, while Furuya gasps out his name with syllables broken and scattered. Miyuki lets himself slump on top of the other when he pulls himself off, mind turning off how he should be stumbling to the bathroom to clean up.

Furuya curls into him with a tired noise, wrapping an arm tight around his waist despite how sticky they both are. Miyuki can't help the wry smirk when Furuya's eyes slide shut after glancing over for a short moment, immediately dozing off.

 _You are more than enough for me_ , Furuya had said and yet, isn't the unsaid question _aren't I enough for you?_

Miyuki looks up at the pale face, dark hair and closed eyes.

The simple answer is, _you are, and more._

* * *

 _ **Fin.**_


End file.
